What If?
by MyVisionIsDying
Summary: Sometimes I wonder what life would be like for my brothers if I wasn't born. Would there still be an International Rescue? Would mom still be alive? It's hard being the youngest sibling in the Tracy family and it's even worse when you're the only girl. What if... I decided not to exist anymore? Would they miss me? I'm the screw up so why would they miss me! *re-do*
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I'm totally revamping this story, replacing third person with first cause I think that may be better, plot wise that is and also slightly making minor changes to Sam's appearance. Also, I adopted some lingo I have seen while reading other fanfiction, Yes, here is the disclaimer - I don't own Thunderbirds, I'm too young to own it. Sam is of my creation only.  
><em>~Vision<br>_

* * *

><p>I could hear feet padding along the carpeted hallway, I knew someone was going to give me hell for something I clearly didn't do because let's face it, I'm one of those typical teenagers who goes and locks themselves in their bedroom for the majority of the summer and only emerge when they need to pee or eat. Yep, I was definitely a hermit, according to my brothers at least. I prefer to call it, clinging to the last bit of my sanity to attempt making a connection with the outside world- trying to at least build up a bit of a social life with others, who weren't my family or their close friends.<p>

I watched as my bedroom door slowly opened, the bright light from the hallway seeping in and going into battle with the darkness of my batcave. I leaned back in my chair, hissing at the invasion of my privacy while I curled my fingers into claws. My eyes squinted, trying to make out the figure who stood in the doorway. Lo and behold, it was dad who I guess was smiling at me, I couldn't see his expression because the light was so intense that it made me feel like I was a vampire- and I kid you not, I could have sworn I saw my skin turn to dust. Or maybe it was just my sleep deprived mind playing tricks on me, I wasn't sure, probably the latter.

"Sam, be sure to turn your laptop off. Dinner's almost ready." he announced.

"Sure thing dad."

Then there was silence. Dad left my door ajar as he stalked off downstairs to gather everyone else. After slamming the lid of my laptop down, I got up from my wheelie chair and stretched, being sure to hear the pops of my joints and back so it was a successful stretch. I winced a little, holding my back for a moment before relaxing. Satisfied, I examined myself in my mirror.

"Damn braces." I cursed. I looked hella stupid with metal wires that decorated my teeth, and despite being personalised with my favourite colour (which is green by the way, people do still ask that) I looked like a dork. Not that there's anything wrong with being a dork!

I knew for a fact that food was going to get caught in my braces again. I do not want to re-live the agony of having dad help me scrape out the lumps from them, it was literally Hell! But then, dad had told me once that all five of my brothers had to endure this kind of pain when they were approximately sixteen years of age, maybe a little older, maybe a little younger so I couldn't complain no matter how loud I cried. Besides- I bit back a scoff- Alan still had to wear his retainer.

_Guess it's an inherited thing._

Smirking, I shrugged to myself and walked out the door. I still wasn't on good terms with the light in the hallway so I decided to grumble a few unintelligent insults at the inanimate object, yeah, the consequences of insomnia were getting to me.

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><p>Strolling into the dining room, a frown soon set upon my face. Dad was the only one sitting at the table, reading a newspaper and cupping a mug of tea. I pulled up a chair to his left, shuffling closer to the table. Looking down at the plate in front of me, I licked my lips, pasta and meatballs. My favourite. My stomach rumbled violently but I mentally scolded it for the outburst, dad and I had to wait for the others because it's only fair if we all ate together. Dinner time was family time. Period.<p>

My glance moved to the front page of the newspaper, of course the headlines would report about some stupid gossip about world politics. I couldn't care for that sort of stuff and neither did dad. He only cared for one thing only in the newspapers and that was the funny pages...

Nah, I'm only kidding! Dad tends to worry if any of my brothers end up in the paper. He's got to make sure the organisation is kept top secret, especially from the press (also known as the idiots who seek to exploit anyone and everyone, legit). He doesn't want any publicity what-so-ever!

Organisation? What the Hell?!

I forgot to mention, my dad is Jeff Tracy. Yes, I mean _the_ Jeff Tracy, the retired astronaut. He runs International Rescue; to make a long story short, dad founded International Rescue. And my brothers work for him. Well, they were willing to help, it wasn't like they were forced against their will by my dad because that would be a little messed up. Alright, maybe not a little.

It would be so cool to work alongside my brothers. Helping people in dangerous situations all around the globe. I grinned to myself, green would totally be the colour of my sash, hands down it would. Damn straight it would!

_Bagsies I get green before my brothers!_

My grin fell lopsidedly as I stared out into nothingness. I knew my brothers were finally beginning to pile in because someone had heavily thumped down onto the chair opposite me, both hands already reaching for the knife and fork laid out in front of them.

"Hey sis, what you smiling about?" they asked.

My head jerked upward and I was staring at back at a devilish grin with eyes that cast a wicked gleam, oh and of course the auburn hair that sat casually upon his scalp. Gordon.

"Huh?" I managed to blurt out. God, where was my internal dictionary? I was lost for words.

Someone had snorted- _what a pig_ and answered, "Nah, Gordon, she's probably dreaming about her boyfriend!"

It was Alan, he nudged Gordon's arm playfully and both of them erupted into a fit of cackles. Well, we all knew who'd be the wicked witches of the west for Halloween this year. I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up Alan, I do not have a boyfriend!" I snapped back.

"Not yet," a snort, "You don't!" Alan teased, followed by snickering. Of which in return I growled quietly and shot him a death glare.

Despite being three years my senior, Alan was the biggest kid we knew. Heck, he was still a kid, sort of, being nineteen and all. But he could act like a _little_ kid and that was just irritating, he would get all pissy if we failed to see the humour he was trying to convey. _Yeah, sure._

"That's enough you two." dad interrupted, his tone of voice stern and commanding, "Now eat, before your food gets cold."

Alan grumbled a poor excuse for an apology while I kept my mouth closed, averting my eyes to my dinner. I reached for my fork and gathered as many meatballs I could fit on it- which turned out to be two because they were big meatballs, I'm not complaining though, they tasted great! And after that bite I began to shovel down my food like someone who had been starved to death and was finally given a massive platter of whatever they wanted to eat.

Occasionally, I would pause to drink my orange juice or dab the pasta sauce that lingered around my mouth with a napkin. I couldn't care whether the sauce stained my Iron Man t-shirt or not, I had plenty of other shirts I could change into. And I was prepared to use that excuse if needed, my brothers did all the damn time and I think I should get my share of remarks too!

"Tch." that was Scott, he was probably disgusted by my table-side manner. Has he looked in his glass lately? "Good God Sam, slow down! You'll choke or make yourself sick."

"I'm hungry." I replied with my mouth full of pasta, "And you don't need to tell me how to eat Scott, you're not on a damn mission or something." I swallowed the rest of my food before leaning forward to look past Virgil- he always sat between me and Scott at dinner because we would bicker over the most smallest things that weren't even worth arguing about.

"I'm only looking out for your well being, Sam. It's what big brothers do."

_What a mother hen..._

"I'm so sorry, it feels like you're controlling me instead of looking out for me." I narrowed my eyes at him, "Sam don't do this, Sam don't do that." I mimicked Scott's voice, adding robotic moves to piss him off a little bit more, "Control freak." I muttered under my breath, of course, loud enough for him to hear.

I knew Scott was up to something because I could see Virgil squirm in his seat from the corner of my eye. I yelped in pain as I felt my arm being pinched tightly, my jaw clenched and I began to grind my teeth, not a good thing to do when you have braces.

"What was that for you jerk?!" I yelled, bolting upright from my chair, glaring down at the chuckling idiot.

Scott mimed wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter eased up, "Aww Sammy, you should really expect the unexpected."

I don't know how my eldest brother could switch from really serious to really goofy in under a second but it really, really pissed me off because it felt so patronizing to have Scott moan at me for doing something he shouldn't even consider some sort of house crime and then revert to pinching my arm because I insulted him.

"Aren't you gonna eat your dinner?" he asked with a hint of cockiness in his voice.

"No, I'm just going to stand here." I retorted sarcastically, "I've finished eating you idiot!"

I stepped away from my chair to shove it under the table with my foot as I held my plate in my hands. I felt Scott watch my every move and I try to ignore it, making my way towards the kitchen. I stopped in front of the sink and carefully placed my plate, spoon and fork in the water.

I turned on my heels and walked out, passing the dining table towards the stairs. I couldn't pass up the awaited opportunity to punch Scott straight in the back and so I gladly did, aiming my fist right between his shoulder blades. His chair fell to floor as he jumped high in the air, screaming like a girl. And. I. Laughed.

You know when you laugh so hard that you either cry, make no noise at all or feel a six pack comin' on? Yeah, well I experienced all three at once, at the expense of my brother's pain. I decided that my exit should be as quick as my punch and I sprinted up the stairs, skipping the odd one to make it to my room quicker. Huffing as I slammed the door, I smirked to myself. Mission accomplished.

Revenge is a dish best served cold... or when the receiver is not expecting it. Yeah, that works.

* * *

><p>So I spent my night in the batcave, wrapped up in my thick duvet and several blankets (because nights on the island were sometimes cold, very cold... even during the summer) and binge watching Disney movies. Sappy, I know, but it can't be helped when I want to just wallow in my stupid, pointless thoughts.<p>

Do I really need to be controlled by every member of my family?

_Well maybe not Grandma cause she's cool and understands, it's a female thing._

But is that my function as a younger sister? To be taken advantage by my older brothers? To follow their demands? To stop doing things I like and start doing things they like?

_Not a damn chance in Hell._

I sighed, drumming my fingers on my thighs along to the tune of Hakuna Matata and the next thing I know, I'm blinded by the light from the hallway as dad opened up my bedroom door once again. He shot me a sympathetic smile as he walked over to my bed, sitting down on the edge. I continued to scowl at my TV, trying not to acknowledge dad's presence and hoped he'd go away soon.

It didn't work.

I spoke first, "Hey dad." my voice cracked a little.

Dad's hands were by his sides, resting on the covers, "You going to sleep yet Sammy?" he asked.

I shook my head, frowning at my TV, "Not tired." I mumbled into my duvet.

I saw his shoulders slump low with a sigh, I felt a slight pang of guilt that buried deep within my stomach rise into my chest. It kills dad whenever me and Scott fight, he's probably worried about what would happen when I finally join the others. He's probably scared that one of us might leave because of that and we'll never come back.

That's what I'm scared of too. Not me leaving, I've sworn to myself that I'll never leave home, I love the island too much. I'm just scared that Scott will leave us and will never come back. I'm scared cause the Tracy siblings won't have their leader anymore. I'm scared that Scott will blame me for everything, even though he's the catalyst for every argument we've had.

I'm scared of my family being torn apart even more than it once was.

Dad held his arms out and I crawl from under my covers to hug him tightly. A wheeze emitted from the back of his throat, followed by a humble chuckle. Worriedly, I looked up at dad and he chuckles it away as if it was nothing, "Steady on Sam, I'm getting frail in my old age!" a smile found its way onto his face.

I pouted, eyebrows knitting together, "But dad, you're only 49."

"Don't remind me." he breathed.

Pushing fifty isn't _that_ old, right? Not for my dad anyway, I'm still practically a kid. I shuffled back into my previous position on my bed, sitting against the headboard. Dad placed his hand on my duvet, about where my left leg was. I could see purple-black circles under his eyes.

_And he's telling me to sleep._

"Try and get some sleep, ok?" his voice above a whisper. Rising to his feet dad strolled over to my door, looking back at me over his shoulder, "Goodnight Sammy."

"Night dad." he left, quietly shutting my door and leaving my room washed in the dim light of my TV.

_Screw Netflix._

I pressed the right trigger button on my Xbox controller and the movie changes from The Lion King to The Princess and the Frog, a grin tugged at my lips. Classic. I slid further down my bed so my head hit the pillow, my hair splayed out on my pillow.

Great animation, catchy music, funny side characters and a hot Disney prince. Could life get any better?


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Second chapter. I'm not slacking this time, I swear! Thank you to the lovely guest who reviewed the first chapter, I plan to update this much more frequently now, I have a basic outline of a plot and some character development for Sam and I'm glad you find her funny and relatable! I rushed the end of the chapter a little because I was tired and (still) ill.  
><em>~Vision<br>_

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><p>Surprisingly, my happiness didn't last long. Of course, because some people don't want me to be happy, it seemed someone had the balls to sneak into my bedroom during the night and set the alarm on my clock for 7am. Brilliant. I shot up in bed, stifling a yawn as I watched my duvet fall from my chest and into my lap. My TV's turned off. Wait? How did it turn off by itself?<p>

_It turns itself off eventually dumbass, you must have fallen asleep halfway through Beauty and the Beast._

I groaned, wiping the grit from my eyes while I cracked my neck. I grimaced at the pile of thin wires poking out from their plastic casing that sat beside my bin, guess I'll need to ask dad for a new clock later today. I was hesitant to get out of bed, I was too warm and too comfortable but the lingering smell of breakfast and coffee broke into my room and began to coax me to come out of isolation.

_Must. Drink. Coffee. _

My mind was all over the place, repeating the same three words over and over in its usual mantra. Finally, I found the courage to push myself up from my bed, standing on my feet and slightly swaying. My toes curled against the soft carpet, I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes and after blinking hard a couple of times I finally felt much more awake than I did a few seconds ago. Where's the logic?!

I took a glimpse in my mirror and noticed my hair was disheveled. Not sure whether I should sound surprised at that fact, I usually sport obscenely bad bed hair after I immediately wake up. There's a cow lick of dark brown hair waving away from my face and I could finally see the tint of copper in several strands. My hair is strange, so to speak, people often mistake it for being jet black when it is in fact a really, really dark brown. The brown can be a bit more obvious during the summer months but it darkens a lot during autumn and winter. So in conclusion, my hair has a life of its own, unsure of whether to be ebony or brunette.

_Make up your damn mind already, I'm getting sick of your uncertainty! Tch, stupid hair._

Crouching down, I snatched my Batman hoodie from the floor and threw it on over my plain green t-shirt. With my foot, I kicked up a pair of black shorts and caught them in my hand which resulted in me sticking my chest out proudly like an athlete who just won several gold medals. One leg through, another leg through and I was almost dressed, yay! I'm such a kid. I snickered to myself, walking over to retrieve my Converse sneakers. I practically danced to get my feet into my shoes and tied up the laces, falling flat on my front on the floor twice in the process. I was shocked to know that nobody came running when there were loud thuds coming from my room. I shrugged off the thought, who needs hugs when you can hurt yourself anyway.

I ran a hand through my unruly hair several times over before I finally gave in and attempted to flatten it down by licking my hands and smoothing it. I nodded to my reflection, pausing instantly with my face thrown forward. My eyebrows met in the middle with my face firmly set into a frown as I stared at myself in the mirror. There was something different about that pale face of mine, my chocolate brown eyes (with flecks of hazel, awesome, right?) squinting back at themselves. I brought a finger up and tapped the glass sharply, directing my pointer finger to the spot where the corner of my right eye met the bridge of my nose.

"A new freckle!" I announced in a sing song voice. God, I'm such a kid. Always cheery whenever there was a minor change. But a new freckle was something to be proud of, an extra point to play dot to dot on my face with!

I turned swiftly on my heels and walked out of my room with a bounce in my step, chirping a "Good morning!" to the light in the hallway as my arms swung loosely. I think I need to see a shrink after today- I have a strange feeling that the light may propose to me, I was uncertain though.

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><p>The stairs creaked beneath the weight of my body with each step my feet took as I descended them into our open plan living room, dining room and kitchen. We all had to be willing to give up that much privacy to live in this house. If you didn't come willingly then you'd be trapped in your bedroom or sent up to Thunderbird 5 for God knows how many months- I feel for ya John, I really do.<p>

My stomach growled noisily, complaining and demanding that I feed it already. I rolled my eyes, waltzing over to the kitchen and sitting up at the breakfast bar watching our temporary resident cook and house maid... sorry, I mean Scott, dance around in a navy blue Avengers vest and matching boxers, sliding across the linoleum tiles in his socks. I continued to stare at him with wide eyes as he sang into the whisk to the song on the radio.

And who says Scott couldn't be a killjoy.

I let my brother have his moment of fame for a couple of seconds longer before I started to snicker and allow his moment of shame hit him straight in the face. The expression he wore when he had spun to face the breakfast bar was priceless! Not to mention his girlish shriek as he noticed his attire. He almost dropped the whisk in the process and flailed his arms to catch it. I leaned back in my bar stool, smirking and quietly laughing to myself.

"Mornin' Scott." I greet nonchalantly.

Even though we bicker almost every night at dinner, I can never really stay mad at Scott, especially when he's dancing round the kitchen singing along to Katy Perry while preparing breakfast. Best morning ever!

"Sam, don't scare me like that!" he scolded, a dark shade of red growing on his face.

"What, so watching your older brother dance and sing along to pop music is considered scary now?" I shrugged, chuckling, "I never knew."

Scott shook his head, refusing to say another word with a smirk on his face and placing the whisk down beside the sink. He dug his elbows into the surface of the breakfast bar to look straight into my eyes and asked me the toughest question of my life, "What do you want for breakfast?"

Oh the options of food that reeled through my mind, the endless possibilities and choices didn't stop for at least a good sixty seconds. That was until I noticed the whisk, begging to be used one more time and I smiled with one word playing on my tongue before finally answering:

"Omelette."

Yup, watching Anime OVAs definitely help when making tough decisions.

Scott spun to open our fridge and pulled out two eggs with pen drawn faces on them. The eggs looked like us. He smirked and turned to me, holding an egg in each hand. There was a word written above each face; above Scott's was the word prick- well duh, Scott was one a majority of the time! Where as above my egg face was the word dork- yup, I am totally content with that, thanks Gordon!

How did I know it was Gordon? He has always written the letter R in a weird way so it was easy to distinguish his handwriting from everyone else's. That was usually why most of his pranks were practical, he didn't want his unique way of penning words to sell him out. Funny really, Gordon always got caught, handwriting or not.

Scott was already reaching for a glass to pour orange juice in and I immediately reacted sternly, finally chanting out my mantra in a robotic voice, "I'm having coffee."

My brother merely chuckled, "Of course. I forgot that Her Majesty is usually quite bitchy without her morning coffee."

"Screw you."

"Love you too." he replied, winking at me.

I gasped, throwing my hand to my heart, "Not even a 'no homo'? Scott, I'm shocked. What will dad think of this, even after your "no homo" conversation over the phone last week with that reporter guy about the Empire State building?"

His face was just as priceless as before!

"Wait you heard that?! Sam you eavesdropping little sh-"

"I believe the word you're looking for, dear brother, is omniscient. All-knowing." I grinned innocently.

Scott crossed his arms, a small grin threatening to pull at his lips, "You can make your own coffee now."

My face fell as he placed the coffee pot back down. I could feel my heart sink into the deep, dark and hollow depths of my stomach, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Scotty, you make the best coffee in the whole wide world!" I grovelled with a side of puppy dog eyes. Was it too early for the bottom lip tremble? Possibly, so I refrained from doing so, watching Scott shake his head but still reached for the coffee pot none the less.

"That's better." he chuckled, proceeding to fill up the coffee pot to boil it.

After his chuckle died down, there was only silence... apart from the radio. Still blasting out Katy Perry throughout the kitchen. It felt sort of awkward, just watching Scott cook breakfast with his back facing me. I also had that hunch that dad had grounded Scott and decided it was Virgil's turn to boss Gordon and Alan around so that was a factor for there only being two Tracy siblings this morning.

_Time to lighten the mood._ Brain, no._ Brain, yes._

"Scott kissed a boy and he liked it, the taste of his cherry chap stick. Scott kissed a boy just to try it-"

"Do not go there." he warned in a stern voice.

"And what if I just did?" I retorted with a smirk.

A pregnant pause took its place between my brother and I. Leaning forward with elbows digging into the marble surface of the breakfast bar, I waited for an answer. Ugh, the suspense was killing me! Was Scott really making this wait deliberate?

_Hurry the hell up Scott!_

Finally, a reply emerged from his mouth, "Then I will have to re-think about letting you help me with Thunderbird One today."

I felt the colour rush from my face as it fell, my mouth gaped open as I stared at Scott. Was he serious? Was I dreaming or does Scott actually want my help with Thunderbird One? _The_ _Thunderbird One_ that flies all around the world to aid those in disasters. I have three words playing on my mind as my eyes continued to stare into Scott's empty soul (yeah, he should have totally been ginger).

_What. Is. Life?_

Or

_No. Freaking. Way_!

Reality snapped back into place, "What?! Scott, no, are you serious?!" I complained, "Come on, it was a joke! A little bit of sibling rivalry, ya know? Please let me help you!"

"I'll let you help me if you stop being a little shit for the day." he compromised.

_The sneaky bastard!_

His smirk widened, "So Sammy, do we have a deal?"

Reluctantly grunting with crossed arms I mumbled a reply, "Yeah. Sure, fine." I grumbled a few curses under my breath after that, low enough for my ears only.

"Good. Your omelette's nearly done. Any last requests?"

Aww sweet! My stomach rumbled as I inhaled the glorious scent of cooked eggs and fried mushrooms, my eldest brother knows me so well- unlike Scott, dad always forgets the mushrooms and usually fries tomatoes instead, everyone knows that John has fried tomatoes and I have fried mushrooms, gosh dad, when will you ever learn!

"Can you flip it?" I asked.

"Haha, what?" Scott looked at me as if I was insane.

I rolled my eyes and replied, "I said; can you flip the omelette?"

"Sam, it's not a pancake." he countered.

"Can you still flip it though?" I half yelled at him, which surprisingly, worked.

Scott groaned as he brought the pan away from the hob of the cooker, the omelette looked great and it was going to look greater on my plate after being flipped like a damned pancake. What's wrong with me? I'm childish, that's what! Scott's tongue slightly made its way out of his mouth in concentration, I leaned further forward in eager anticipation- I felt like a kid at Christmas.

My eyes narrowed into an anticipating glare, watching every move Scott made intently. He steadied the handle of the pan evenly between his hands, I hoped to whatever God there was that his hands weren't slippery with sweat. That would suck big time!

_Come on Scott, you can do it!_ I mentally urged him, clenching and unclenching my jaw to contain the slow build up of the omelette flip. Scott steadily positioned his feet at shoulder width apart, squatting a little to maintain his balance.

I can't even, this is too intense!

He lowered the pan slightly and then he tosses, the omelette completed several flips before landing perfectly in the pan once more and Scott and I can breathe normally again. Heh, awesome. Before setting the omelette on my plate, Scott sent me a knife and fork, which I caught as they slid along the top of the breakfast bar, of course.

And with my fork in my right hand and my knife in my left I began to chant, "Om-e-lette! Om-e-lette! Om-e-lette!" pounding my fists every time I yelled the first syllable. The omelette slid onto my plate from the frying pan, I almost fainted due to the sheer beauty of Scott's wonderous cooking. He makes a great chef, not gonna lie.

Slowly, I pierced through part of the omelette steadily with my knife and with my fork I harshly stabbed at the egg and mushroom concoction to shove it down my throat. The omelette was perfection, the right amount of egg yolk and egg white with slices of mushroom and just a pinch of salt and pepper. Delicious. Then, I sliced a bigger portion out of my omelette, shoveling it whole in my mouth and chewing at least five or six times before swallowing. I clicked my tongue with content before eating the last of my omelette. Leaning back slightly in my seat, I reached for my cup of coffee. The heat of the cup made my fingertips flinch away from grabbing it but it was the right temperature to drink the beverage.

The coffee burned as it touched my lips and into my mouth, scalding my tongue and throat but it was worth it for the wake-up call. The bitter-sweet substance slicked down my throat and into my stomach to bubble with the omelette, a dark amber liquid mixing with yellow of the egg (a little disgusting, I know, but I can feel my breakfast churn together to fight against my decreasing hunger).

I could not fathom that today was the day I would see Thunderbird One- in person- in all of its metallic and pretty freaking awesome, glory. And by the look on Scott's face as he told me meant he wasn't even joking around, he truly meant that I was allowed to help him fix up his pride and joy (do not get the wrong idea, know what I mean?).

I was itching to help Scott so much that I kept fidgeting in my chair to keep myself occupied while he washed the dishes. My nails dug into the leather cushion of the seat as I began to rock back and forth with impatience. I was one of those kids that would become so excited and eager that they could not wait to do things they were never allowed to do before because their older siblings were stubborn pricks and refused.

Scott chuckled, placing the last plate on the draining board, "Calm down Sammy, it's not like we're going to Disney World."

"But we're not though, that's the thing. We're going to check Thunderbird One. That's a bigger deal than Disney World you fool." I barked at him, eyes wide with anticipation, "Now hurry the Hell up and get dressed!"

* * *

><p>After about an hour, Scott finally descended the stair fully clothed with his hair- still damp from the shower- slicked back out of his face. Sometimes Scott would do little things to piss us all off because he thinks he's charismatic. Truth is, he's not. He's just an awkward dork who can't even ask someone out on a date over the phone after agreeing to meet up again to elaborate about what happened in New York with the Empire State building fiasco, it <em>was<em> on the news but the story soon cut out because something happened to the reporter and the camera man- I think Scott said they were alright in the end, even if he did have some big ass grin on his reddened face and then squealed like a girl afterwards when he went up into his room. Yep, a dork who can act like a little school girl from time to time. My eldest brother ladies and gentlemen, Scott Tracy.

"Are you ready now?" I asked for the umpteenth time and every answer would be because Scott was doing something petty like straightening out his shirt or slicking back his hair or some other crap like that.

"Yeah, don't worry I'm not going to do anything that'll hold up time."

_Finally!_

"Dad, you know where Sam and I are if you need us!" he called out to dad. There was no answer but dad was probably too busy talking Virgil through coping with Gordon and Alan to acknowledge what Scott said, but I garantee dad must have heard.

We stepped through the threshold of our patio doors and onto the warm concrete beneath our bare feet that led to the pool and the steps to where Scott usually enters to check up on Thunderbird One. Holy crap I was too excited to even notice that my feet were beginning to burn on the floor, I didn't even notice Scott run towards the steps, hissing in pain. Only when I yelped at the temperature of the concrete was I brought back to my senses and jogged to catch up with my brother.

Waiting, I shifted my weight from my feet from time to time as Scott subtly fist pumped and guided me into the fairly dim... hangar? Or whatever the Hell it was I was too busy halting just after entering and staring up at the glorious thing that was Thunderbird One.

Merry Christmas to me.


End file.
